Three days before Wallace’s birthday, I did something I had never done for anyone outside the orphanage.
I cooked.
Not something simple or rushed, but something I actually put time and effort into. I woke up early, planned it carefully, even asked one of the dorm staff for help when I wasn’t sure about certain steps.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was… good. At least, I hoped it was.
By the time I packed everything neatly into a container, my chest felt light with a kind of excitement I wasn’t used to.
This is stupid, I told myself while walking toward the university’s sports complex.
But I was smiling anyway.
Wallace had mentioned he’d be at the football field that afternoon. Practice. Something important, something he couldn’t skip. So instead of waiting, I decided to bring the food t
